


Winning

by Beaufale



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 03:32:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3234674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beaufale/pseuds/Beaufale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy and Clarke have always had a rocky relationship. Clarke needs to be strong to put things right, but it's so hard when Bellamy breaks into her apartment, drunk one night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winning

Clarke groaned, rolling over in bed. It was late, and she really should be sleeping, but her body refused to wind down. She wanted to unplug her brain and punch a wall. Maybe not in that order.Getting up, she made her way into the kitchen, preparing sleepy-time tea. It tasted weird, but it worked sometimes. She hadn’t turned on the lights, using the dim city lights to work under. 

Something moved in her peripheral vision. Someone was on her balcony. A dark figure stood leaning against the rail. Her mind panic for a split second before she recognised the person. What the fuck was he doing?

Snapping on the lights, she watched as he turned to face her, with that shit eating grin plastered firmly on his face. She was going to kill him. He opened the sliding door, letting himself into the body of her apartment.

“You should have changed your locks, Princess.” He slurred, dangling his goddamn keys.

“Give me those. You have no right to be here.” She snapped reaching for the spare set of key, she should never have loaned him.

He staggered backwards “Why the hell not?”

“Are you drunk? Bellamy, what the hell are you doing?” Clarke pulled back. She couldn’t deal with him, when he was drunk. His emotions always ran too high, but when he had oo much alcohol, Bellamy was impossible to reason with. 

“I wanted to see you. We never talk anymore.”

“Dammit, you know why we don’t talk! Why would you think coming here in the middle of the night was a good idea?” She hissed, tired and pissed off, she didn’t need this confrontation right now.

He stares at her. “Cause I’m drunk. And I miss you.”

He sounded so sincere, and heartbroken. Her resolve crumbled, tears filled her eyes. She turned away trying to make her tea again.

“Clarke, please.” 

“What the hell do you want me to say? That I miss you too? It doesn’t matter because it doesn’t change anything!” She snapped, refusing to look at him.

“It changes everything. Why can’t we try again?” He reached out to touch her, but she flinched away.

“Cause we’re so toxic Bell, all we do is fight and fuck and that’s not a relationship.” Clarke wiped her face, trying desperately not to cry. He’d win if she cried. “You’d remember that if you were sober.” She wanted to sound harsh, but it came out as a plea.

“But I’m not. I’m not and I love you. I want to make this work, please.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his face to her shoulder. She let herself lean into the embrace for a moment. IT was so hard not to get swept up with him. She loved Bellamy she really did, but this wasn’t the first time he came stumbling drunk to her door, or her to his, or both. They always seem to get together when they weren’t sober, if that didn’t say something about their relationship, nothing did. 

It’d been that way since they fell into bed together after months of antagonising each other at Octavia’s expense. They were both drunk and admitted thing they never thought they would, and when they got up the next morning, Bellamy asked her if she wanted to give the relationship a real shot. She did. And they were good together for a long time, but things started slipping apart. Bellamy worked all the time, Clarke was studying for her finals, and they kept blowing up over the simplest shit, and no amount of sex would make up for it.

The snide comments got harsher, attacking deep insecurities and the atmosphere between them was so hostile Clarke felt she was choking. They ended things and refused to speak for weeks. Not long after, when Clarke had finished her final, and celebrated with Raven (and her boyfriend), and Octavia (and her boyfriend), Clarke thought it’d be a great idea to go visit Bellamy. They fucked, and tried again.

And it was great. Until it wasn’t. Then they broke up. And Bellamy got drunk. And they tried again. And it was good. Until it wasn’t. Then they broke up. And Clarke got drunk again. And they tried again. And it was okay. Until it wasn’t. Then they smashed half the glasses in the kitchen and several of the plate. And they both got drunk. And they tried again, cycling viciously for the past five years.

It couldn’t go on. They weren’t right for each other, but they were addicted to each other, to the hostility. Clarke won’t lie. Sometimes she causes arguments just to rile him up, and she knows he does the same.

“Not this time Bellamy. We can’t do this anymore.” She pries herself out of his hold. 

“Clarke. We can do better.” He holds her arms, longing in his eyes.

“We can, but not with each other.” She brings one hand to his face, running her fingers through his hair. This was goodbye. It had to be.

“No Clarke. Please. There will never be anyone else.” Tears formed in his eyes. She was winning. 

“Yes there will. You need to go home, Bell.” She ushered him to the door. “This can’t keep happening. I love you, but we need to move on.” Clarke opened the door and guided him out. He didn’t live far away, but Clarke would never forgive herself if something happened cause she just kicked him out. Picking up her keys she pulled him along behind her.

The silence caused an ache. He hadn’t said a word since they left her apartment, and he wasn’t letting anything show. They arrived out the front of his building, but he didn’t get out. 

“Bellamy- ” 

He leant across and kissed her. He tasted like cheap beer and mint and home. His fingers got tangled in her messy hair and his body was on an awkward angle, and Clarke knew he should stop but dammit. Why couldn’t they work things out? 

He pulled away, staring into her eyes. “I love you, you love me. Why isn’t that enough?”

“Because Bell, you know we don’t function when we’re together!” She would not cry. She’d already shed too tears over this man. 

“Princess-”

“No, you need to get out, and I need to go home.” She glared out the window.

She heard the door open, and he climbed out. “You deserve the world Clarke. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you that.” He slammed the door and she watched him leave. 

It was really over this time. She cried, as she drove away, sobbing by the time she made it back to her apartment. She’d won, so why did it feel like she’d lost?

It was really over.  
…  
The next day Clarke went out and brought new locks. And far too much alcohol. 

She hadn’t really won.

It was never really over.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work in this fandom and on this site at all. They're probably OOC, but I tried to capture what they'd be like in this scenario.


End file.
